


where the soul... cuts into the sharp body

by mckayla (steveromanov)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: After-Battle, F/M, Other Avengers Mentioned - Freeform, Tumblr: otpprompts, post-AoU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveromanov/pseuds/mckayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It shouldn't make him. It shouldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where the soul... cuts into the sharp body

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be set sometime after Pietro is miraculously brought back to life (or he happened to never be dead at all) in the MCU, so keep that in mind.
> 
> Also, this is something new. I don't usually write in present tense (used to, but that was a while ago), but I liked the voice present-tense gives off (in contrast to past-tense. they sound different to me, okay?) and thought it suited this prompt nicely. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!

where the

soul with its soft

edges

cuts

into

the

sharp

body

\-- anne carson,  _H &A screenplay_

* * *

For a brief moment, when everything is done, over, _finished_ , the world halts.

And instead of screams and sirens, all he can hear is rugged, relieved breathing.

And instead of blood and smoke, all he can smell is sweat, honey, and vanilla.

And instead of pain and fatigue, all he can feel is smooth, tired muscle in his embrace.

And instead of the ruined skyline of Manhattan ( _again_ ), all he can see is red.

It shouldn’t make him feel as safe as much as it does, considering the state of the city around them, considering what event is—thankfully—now behind them. It shouldn’t make him. It shouldn’t.

But it does. God, it does.

She lets out a muffled gasp against his shoulder, tightens her grip on his biceps, clutches him back. His hands are splayed across her spine, pushing her body closer to him, enveloping himself in her as much as he possibly can, right here, right now, while everything is still at a stop. While the adrenalin is pumping so fast in his veins that all he has is tunnel vision and that tunnel leads directly to _her_.

“I was—you were—” She stammers, holding him firmer.

“Close,” he pants. “It was close.”

With those words, a pain blares in his other shoulder, the one that isn’t supporting Natasha’s weight, and it takes all the strength in him not to crumple around her. Natasha notices, though. She always does. She makes herself lean back, and when her eyes go to the source of his wince, his are already there, and they take in the spreading crimson spot together.

“Steve—”

He silences her with his mouth, and she has no choice but to kiss him back, breathe in  _his_ scent, envelope herself in  _him_.

“It’s healing,” he says after, because it is.

But he also wants to soak up as much as _this_ as he can get, before the world resumes again.

Her lips set in a firm line, but her eyes are soft. She believes him. Understands.

She doesn’t argue when he pulls her back into his arms, doesn’t argue when her eyes are level with the wound opposite her. She just closes her eyes, squeezes him tight, listens to his heartbeat thumping calmly beneath her ear. It’s a reminder that whatever happened to his shoulder won’t tear him away from her. It's a reminder that the battle is over, but they still have time.

“You okay?” He asks into her hair.

She nods, despite the breeze she can feel tickling her hip, where she knows part of her suit got ripped and torn away in the midst of the fight. “Fine.”

“Thought I lost you for a sec,” the quietness of his voice tells Natasha that he’d probably witnessed what tore off her suit in the first place. “Thought I…”

“Shh,” she murmurs. “No.”

He swallows hard, nods anyways. “I… I know.”

“We’re good,” she insists. “You, me. Clint. Thor. Stark and Banner.”

“Wanda? Pietro? Vision?”

She nods. “All okay.”

He accepts her for her word, she knows, because he only hugs her tighter and buries his face in the crook of her neck. They don’t have much time left. The world will resume, and they’ll have to deal with the aftermath of ruining another—the _same_ —city, despite the fact that they probably just saved thousands, if not millions, of lives. There’s no point in trying to prolong the moment, so Steve just holds her, and she just keeps whispering reassurances in his ear, petting his soot-stained hair, until a sharp whistle starts the world again and pulls them out of their reverie.

The whistle is coming from Stark and they both look up at him where he’s standing in front of a sizable pile of rubble, the visor to his helmet flipped up, a sly smile on his face. Natasha can’t resist rolling her eyes, can’t even feel embarrassed or sorry for the fact that she’s wrapped up in Captain America’s arms in the middle of a ruined Manhattan street. Steve’s not red in the face either, just suddenly looks exhausted, and when his muscles finally sag, Natasha takes it as her cue to stand up.

When she does, Wanda’s smiling at her, and it may just be the adrenalin, but Natasha can swear that she sees sleek wisps of red shimmering in the younger girl’s eyes. Ever since Ultron, before Wanda and her brother ever teamed up with the Avengers, back when she used her powers _against_ them, her mental link with each of them—minus Clint—had never really gone away. She can feel things, sometimes. And based on the thoughtful, understanding look the young witch has on her face now, Natasha knows that she just experienced what she felt with Steve. She felt the world stop, the calm long after the storm.

Natasha smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> [The quote](http://rushmanatalie.tumblr.com/post/121815575013/where-the-soul-with-its-soft-edges-cuts-into).
> 
> [The original prompt](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/125485313351/imagine-your-otp-after-battle-holding-each-other).


End file.
